


A Delicate Situation

by dicklomatticimmunity



Category: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Panty Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:03:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicklomatticimmunity/pseuds/dicklomatticimmunity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://tronkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3162.html?thread=1090906#t1090906">this prompt</a> at the TRON kinkmeme. <i>Sam likes wearing girls' panties. I do not give a fuck who finds out about it so long as they take advantage of this fact.</i></p>
<p><b>Author Note:</b> This took... far longer than it should have. This prompt was posted way back in fucking <i>January</i>, and because I got distracted by other prompts, this one took forever. The OP probably isn't there anymore... but regardless, I hope others enjoy this fic.</p>
<p>Published to LJ on August 07, 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Delicate Situation

Tron held the garment up in front of him and eyed it thoughtfully, as though trying to deconstruct it. He had only been in the User world for a month, but clothing had been one of the first things he had learned about.

_"Hey Dad?" Sam said as they left the arcade -- the arcade the Creator knew, the one that existed in the User world. "We're going to need to get these guys some clothes." The younger Flynn pointed a finger at Quorra and himself. "We shouldn’t let them walk around in suits like that.”_

_Sam told his father,_ besides, you look outdated too _, and Flynn had to admit that his son was probably right. The next day, after finding out whose clothes fit Tron best (Alan's, of course) and giving Quorra some of Sam's clothes (which fit her poorly but would work for now), they went clothes shopping. Tron was fascinated with the experience; there was nothing like it on the Grid. Tron tried several things on, and an hour later, he left the store with several bags full of clothes._

_He felt strangely accomplished._

_He was puzzled, though, when shopping for clothes for Quorra proved to be an embarrassing expedition for the Flynns. Eventually, after much convincing by Sam, he and Flynn left and grabbed something to eat, leaving Sam and Quorra to shop._

_That didn't mean he didn't catch several memory banks' full of images while he was in the store._

He turned the garment around so he could see the other side. If memory served him well, this was a woman's garment. He knew this because of what he had seen that day while shopping. He also knew this because he almost always did the laundry for himself, Quorra, and Sam, who also lived with them, and over time, he had learned who wore what based on patterns, styles, and materials. Quorra's underwear stood out because they were usually frilly, brightly colored, and consisted almost exclusively of one style. This pair of panties didn't fall into that category; they had bright pink trim, but the rest of them consisted almost entirely of black lace on top of black silk. They also appeared to be a size larger than what Quorra wore.

So whose were they?

Sam was eating a bowl of cereal as he passed the laundry room on the way to his bedroom.

"Hey Tron," he said, looking into the small room briefly before continuing down the hallway.

It took a few moments for what he had seen to sink in. He stopped in his tracks, mouth frozen mid-chew as he considered what Tron had been doing.

A sense of dread crept into him. Tron had been holding up a pair of black lacy panties, _his_ black lacy panties, the pair he had worn a night ago when he had gone out clubbing. He remembered that he had wanted to take care of the laundry before Tron got to it, but he'd forgotten about it altogether, and now Tron was staring at his panties as though he could figure out who the owner was by turning the clothing into binary and tracing it to its wearer.

Swallowing a mouthful of cereal and trying to appear as casual as possible, he backpedaled towards the laundry room. There was something disturbing about how closely Tron was looking at the panties, despite the fact that Tron's intentions were likely innocent.

"Where'd you find those?" Sam asked as coolly as he could manage. He leaned against the doorframe and hoped his cheeks weren't slightly pinker than they usually were.

Tron turned his head to look at Sam.

"These were in the laundry. I don't know whose they are." Tron looked at Sam, confusion evident in his expression. "These are women's garments. That's what you said they were when Flynn and I left -- what was it called again, 'Victoria's Secret'?"

"Yeah, that looks like something Quorra would wear," Sam said, remembering that part of the mall trip well. He had refused to let his father, an old man, help a woman who looked his age pick out clothes. It had been an embarrassing experience, as it earned him quite a few questions, giggles, and worst of all, offers of advice from other shoppers, all of them women. Trying to explain the 'purpose' of various fabrics, as well as why some women wore bras and others didn't, was a nightmare he had hoped to avoid, but an explanation had been inevitable in order to prevent Quorra from asking odd questions to the employees.

"I don't think I've seen these before," Tron admitted. "And I don't think they're her size either."

Sam wanted to ask Tron how he knew that, but he also knew that Tron -- and Quorra, too -- were very good at picking up on the subtlest of things, including minute measurements.

This also included body language. Any moment now, Tron was going to see how embarrassed he was and know -- or at least be able to guess -- that the panties were his.

He should stop leaving the laundry to Tron.

"Maybe they've stretched out," Sam hedged. It was an unrealistic thing to say, as Quorra had only owned her new clothes for a month, but he didn't care at the moment. His goal was to get out of here before Tron could ask more questions.

"I don't think so," Tron countered, appearing more confused than he did before. "They seem to be brand new."

"Just follow the care tag. They should be fine," Sam said before heading from the doorway, trying his best to not bolt down the hallway to hide his embarrassment. As it was, he only succeeded because he was intent on not spilling his cereal.

Tron frowned as he watched Sam leave, but he let it go and looked at the garment again. He found the tag on the inner backside of the underwear and tossed it into the washer machine with a load of other delicate clothes.

He still had no idea who the owner of the panties was.

********

Tron was eating dinner downstairs in the dinette when he heard a knock at the door. He rose to answer it, but he barely finished standing when an older man -- his _User_ \-- walked in.

"Hey Tron. How you doing?" Alan said.

"I'm well," Tron said. He noticed the brown paper bag cradled in his User's arm. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh, just some Chinese food," Alan said as he closed the door behind him, then walked over to the table and placed said bag on it. "I figured I'd stop by. I brought dinner, but it appears that you've already eaten."

"If I had known you were coming, I would have waited," Tron said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. He always enjoyed the company of his User, and he felt as though he had unintentionally ruined a good meal.

"No worries, Tron," Alan said as he clapped his program on the shoulder. "Where's Sam?"

"He's upstairs," Tron said, gesturing towards the staircase to the right. He was about to sit down, but he noticed that his User was staring into the distance behind him. He turned his head to see what had caught Alan's attention.

After finishing the laundry, he had folded it and piled it neatly into a basket, which was now in the corner of the living room. The pink and black panties were on top.

"Sorry," Alan said as he walked over to take a seat at the table, cheeks pinking slightly. He felt like a perverted old man, ogling a pair of women's underwear like that. "Lora -- a User I used to date -- liked to wear that kind of garment. It brings back good memories."

"They're not Quorra's," Tron said, suddenly excited. He could not let this chance for an explanation go by. "I asked her myself earlier today. She said she had no idea who they belonged to."

That made Alan pause. If they weren't Quorra's, whose were they? He walked over to the laundry basket and took the panties from it before unfolding them and looking them over. He looked at the tag, confirming what he already thought was true -- yes, they were women's panties. And if they weren't Quorra's, they belonged to another woman...

He frowned deeply as he looked up the stairs to the second floor. What was Sam doing experimenting with women? He was certain that Sam was gay; it was the first of several things he had learned about Sam that night a few years ago when he had gone to pick the younger man up from a night out at the bar. He had been surprised that Sam was sober, and he found out why minutes later: Sam loved him in more than a father-son way, and he had been trying to work up the courage to tell him the entire time he had been out. Sam had harbored genuine _feelings_ for him for seven years and had never told him.

It had taken Alan another week to confess that he felt the same way. He had been hiding deeper feelings for Sam since the younger man had left for college, but he had never said anything because there was no way Sam would want an old man like him. When he told Sam this, the younger man had laughed at him and told him that he had never wanted anyone else, that the trips to gay bars were his own way of trying to ignore how he truly felt. He had never wanted anyone he had found at gay bars; the man he wanted was always at home, waiting to pick him up, never leaving his side.

They had been together since.

Alan couldn't help but feel insecure as he looked down at the panties again. The idea that Sam had become tired of him broke his heart, and though he told himself that he was leaping to conclusions, it was hard to not do so when he had the evidence in his hands.

"I don't understand," Tron's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Sam said that women wear that style of garment. There are no other women in this house, though."

Alan looked over at Tron. "You haven't seen any?"

"No," Tron said, certainty in his tone. "So to whom do they belong?"

Alan turned and looked down at the panties again, then sighed, pocketed them, and headed for the staircase.

"I have a guess." He began to climb the stairs leading to the upstairs hallway. He knew that nothing added up, that Sam being gay meant that he wouldn't be interested in women, but he had trouble shaking the thought. He barely heard Tron ask, "Whose are they, Alan-one?" as he reached the top of the stairs and headed for his lover's bedroom at the end of the hallway.

********

When Alan reached Sam's bedroom, he paused at the closed door. He didn't want to do this, but he knew he had to, knew he couldn't just let the idea of Sam cheating on him fester. He knocked on the door before opening it slowly.

Sam was at the other end of the room, standing in front of an oblong mirror. He was in the middle of pulling on a tight-fitting shirt when he turned to see who had entered. He smiled when he saw Alan.

"Hey," he said, pulling the shirt down all the way before tugging at the hem to straighten it. "I was hoping you'd stop by before I left tonight. I was hoping to spend some time..."

He noticed the sadness in Alan's eyes, saw the dourness in his lover's expression. He frowned as he slowly began to cross the room to Alan.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Sam asked, concerned.

Alan paused, unsure if he wanted to go through with this or not. Of course Sam was going out; it was Friday night. He didn't always go out on Friday night, but Alan couldn't help but think that this was how Sam might be meeting the woman or women he was fooling around with.

He had to know. He produced the panties from his pocket and tossed them to Sam.

"These were on top of the pile of laundry downstairs," Alan said, his voice bleak, tainted with anguish. "What's going on?"

Sam frowned as he took the panties. He recognized them immediately as the ones he had seen Tron looking at earlier. His cheeks flushed and continued to turn redder with each passing second. He'd been busted.

"Oh, these," Sam said. He laughed in an attempt to hide his embarrassment, though he had a feeling it had the reverse effect. "I, uh. Well, you found out, then. Uhm..." He scratched the back of his neck with one hand. "I meant to tell you, but I wasn't sure..."

Sam noticed the sudden sharp intensity in Alan's grey eyes. He stared at his lover and tilted his head slightly, wondering what was going on in Alan's head.

"I wasn't sure you'd like it. That's why I've been keeping it to myself," Sam continued, his frown deepening. "I've only been wearing them for a week. I wasn't sure I liked them, so I decided to find out for sure before telling you."

Alan stared slightly open-mouthed at this, the sadness in his expression vanishing instantly. Had he heard that right?

Sam chuckled softly, awkwardly. He hadn't expected this kind of silent disapproval.

"I'll stop wearing them if you don't think... well, if you don't think I'd look sexy in them." He smiled, a hopeful, cocky smile, and he hoped it was enough to convince Alan to at least give them a chance.

A few moments passed in silence. Alan looked at the panties in Sam’s hands and tried to picture them on his lover, with little success. This was also not the explanation he had been expecting, though admittedly, he much preferred it to what he had been prepared to accept.

"Wait... what?" Alan said finally, looking back at Sam.

Sam laughed and leaned back against the nearby dresser. He was glad Alan didn't look heartbroken anymore, but the fact Alan had come in here like that still worried him. Why had Alan been so unhappy?

And then it hit him. He stopped laughing, and he closed the distance between himself and Alan.

"Alan," he said, a small smile on his face. "You don't really think I'm having sex with a woman, do you?"

Sam watched as Alan frowned again, and he realized the severity of the situation. Deciding that he would have to show Alan what he meant, he dropped the panties and unzipped his pants. He shoved them down to his hips, revealing a pair of light blue, lacy panties beneath.

"I'm sorry," Sam said as he stepped back so Alan could get an eyeful. "I was going to tell you, but as I said, I wasn't sure if I liked them or not. I wanted to know for sure before I came out to you about it."

Alan couldn't help but stare. He might have hoped that they were Sam's in some far corner of his mind; finding out that they actually _were_ Sam's was mind blowing. Mostly, he was thankful that Sam wasn't sleeping with women, but actually _seeing_ Sam wearing women's panties was more than his mind could handle.

"Oh." Alan couldn’t take his eyes off of Sam’s groin. He was sure that his jaw had dropped a mile and stayed that way because words continued to fail him. Blue had always looked good on Sam, but to say that Sam wore the panties well was an understatement. He couldn’t help but notice how they framed Sam’s package, the fabric taut and obviously not designed to hold such a bulge, and yet they did, and they showed it off well.

Sam walked towards Alan slowly and cupped his lover's chin, shifting the other's gaze to his eyes.

"Alan," Sam whispered as he put his other hand on Alan's cheek and stroked gently. "I would never cheat on you." He placed a brief kiss on Alan's lips. "I love you."

"I know," Alan said, and now it was his turn to blush. How could he have thought that Sam was cheating on him? "I just thought that you were experimenting. That you..."

"Had gotten tired of you?" Sam finished, lips drawn into a small, reassuring smile. "Alan, if I got lost in the Grid and never came out again, I would still think of you every day."

Alan relaxed and returned the smile. "I would come in and look for you."

"I hope so," Sam said, and before anything else could be said, he wrapped his arms around Alan and kissed him.

Alan returned the kiss, and everything felt right in the world again. He embraced Sam and held his lover close, savoring the warmth of the younger man’s body. He caressed Sam's back, and then his hand slid lower, brushing over Sam's hip. His fingers felt the panties experimentally, slipping over the smooth fabric, and he had to admit that they felt very nice indeed.

Sam pulled away from the kiss and gave Alan a questioning glance.

"Do you like them?" he asked nervously.

"Yeah," Alan said quietly, his fingers moving closer to his lover’s package. "I think I do."

Sam breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. He looked into Alan's eyes and noticed the sharp intensity was gone, replaced with a gentler, radiant blue-grey, and he knew that Alan meant it.

"Good to know," Sam said. He would have rather surprised Alan with a striptease than have his secret come out like this, but all that mattered was that Alan was okay with it.

"The question is, how much do _you_ like them?" Alan asked, eyes twinkling with devious intent.

Sam grinned, glad that Alan was in a better mood. "If I didn't like them, I wouldn't be wearing them."

"I know _that_ , love," Alan said. His hand slipped between them and traced the outline of Sam's groin before cupping it.

“Hey, if you’re going to -- _ah_ ,” Sam moaned, arms tightening around Alan as his lover’s hand closed tightly over his cock.

Alan didn't want to stop there. He kicked the door closed behind him, then turned until he had Sam pinned against it. He stroked intently over the bulge in the panties, a bulge that was becoming increasingly larger.

" _Ah_ ," Sam breathed against Alan's skin. His eyes fluttered closed as his hands fisted into Alan's long jacket. He wished Alan would wear less clothing when going into this kind of situation, but he hardly had the mind to remove anything with Alan pressing the panties against his groin, the silky fabric gliding against his cock.

"Alan," he gasped as he bucked against Alan's hand. "You can take them off, you know."

"But that would ruin the fun," Alan chided teasingly. He pressed his hand more firmly against Sam's cock, eliciting a moan from the younger man. He got an idea, and he pressed his thumb over one side of Sam's erection and the rest of his fingertips over the other, as though he was giving Sam a handjob.

"Fuck," Sam moaned as he tilted his head back and pressed it against the door. He knew now that Alan intended to get him off this way, and the thought of that was almost painful because the panties were _tight_ , almost unbearably so.

Alan knew this, and he pulled down the waistband of the panties just enough to allow the head of Sam's cock to be exposed. He then grazed his thumb lightly, teasingly, over the slit.

Sam inhaled sharply and moaned, his hands sinking deeper into his lover’s jacket. “Fuck, Alan...”

"Think you can come from just this?" Alan inquired as his hand moved up and down Sam's cock through the panties. His own breaths were coming slightly harder, and he could feel the strain of his cock against his boxers. His gaze wandered over Sam, so flushed and aroused beneath him. He took advantage of Sam’s exposed neck and kissed the skin there, tasting the tang of sweat mixed with the scent of leather -- the cologne Sam used when going out. He wanted, needed to fuck Sam, needed to feel his lover’s warm, muscular body beneath his, but for now, he wanted Sam to know that this little experiment was okay, that he genuinely approved of Sam wearing panties if he chose to do so.

"Fuck," Sam moaned as he thrust against Alan's hand. Alan knew how he liked to be touched, and as Alan's thumb slipped beneath the panties and down the length of his shaft, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. When Alan’s hand closed around him and began to stroke him in earnest, his entire body tensed, hands struggling to find purchase in his lover’s coat and finally grasping Alan’s shoulders.

“Please,” Sam moaned, so close that precome spilled from his slit.

Alan smiled as he delivered what Sam wanted. He worked Sam with quicker strokes, causing Sam to tense even more, like a bow string being pulled to the precipice of release. He then pressed his lips to the sensitive spot below Sam’s ear, the one he knew would never fail him, and sucked gently.

Sam moaned loudly and dug his nails into Alan’s shoulders as he came, spilling semen over Alan’s hand and the panties, his body shaking as his orgasm washed over him. He slumped against the door, exhausted and spent, and he breathed heavily, gazing into Alan's eyes, his own blown wide with lust.

For several moments after, he simply breathed. As Alan removed his hand from his groin, he smirked, knowing that his lover hadn’t gotten off yet. His hand immediately went to Alan's crotch and grabbed the bulge he felt there.

"I think I might have to take these off," Sam teased, his breath warm against Alan's ear.

"So it seems," Alan said before pulling Sam into a passionate kiss and letting Sam push him towards the bed.

********

Half an hour later, Alan was downstairs again, sitting at the table across from Tron, eating the Chinese food he had bought. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes looked more wrinkled than they had been when he arrived. He was also quite red in the cheeks.

"Did you figure out who the owner was?" Tron asked as he studied his User. He hadn’t missed how flushed Alan’s cheeks were, nor had he missed how Alan had seemed short of breath when he first came downstairs. He also noted that Alan seemed quite a bit more upbeat than he had when he went upstairs, and this was what baffled Tron the most. The wide smile, the way Alan ate -- it all indicated to Tron that something had gone very right, and he couldn’t understand what that thing was, especially since everything he had noticed so far hinted to him that his User might be ill.

"Yes," Alan said as he used chopsticks to pick some rice from the small pile on his plate and eat it.

"Who is it?" Tron asked, eyes wide with anticipation at having his question answered.

"Not telling," Sam said as he came down the stairs. He took a seat next to Alan and began to dish some Chinese food out onto the plate Alan had left on the table for him.

"Why?" Tron asked the young User, confused and sad at being denied an answer.

"You've only been in the User world for a month," Sam said as he chewed a piece of kung pao chicken and put more food onto his plate. "Once you have a grasp of the norms, we'll show you the things that break and bend those rules."

Tron hadn't considered that such a thing could be done. He simply nodded, accepting the proposal, but he still wasn’t satisfied.

"Do they belong to someone who doesn’t live here?" Tron asked. He needed to get an answer out one way or another because it was going to annoy him until he knew.

Sam looked at Tron, and then he looked at Alan.

Alan gave Sam a look that clearly said _this is your fault, you know_ before continuing to eat his food.

"I'm sure you can figure it out," Sam said, not looking back at Tron as he grabbed some rice with his chopsticks. "But you don't have to."

Tron frowned. He didn't understand what Sam meant. Of course he had to know. Otherwise...

Tron's frown deepened. What _would_ happen if he didn't know?

"Hey," Alan said to Sam, noticing the puzzled look on Tron's face. "Stop confusing him. Of course he has to know."

"No he doesn't," Sam mumbled through a mouthful of rice.

Tron looked at Sam, and then he looked at his User.

Alan smiled at Tron, and then he winked.

Tron's eyes went wide with shock.

"They're _yours_ , Alan-one?" Tron said incredulously.

Sam nearly choked on his rice as he tried to not laugh.

"Maybe," Alan said with a smile as he lifted a piece of kung pao chicken to his mouth and ate it. “Maybe not.”

Tron didn't know what to do with this new information. He winced, the thought of wearing such a garment himself painful to ponder for too long. He never would have guessed that the panties he had found earlier that day could be worn by a man. Such underwear was not designed for human male anatomy.

Perhaps Sam was right -- he wasn’t ready to know about things that broke the rules.

“Alan, stop trying to break your program,” Sam said casually after he managed to swallow down his food. “We can’t just use code to fix him while he’s here. We’d have to take him to the hospital.”

Tron was too buried in his own thoughts to have heard what Sam said. It didn’t bother him that the panties couldn’t be Alan’s because Alan didn’t live here; he was still trying to comprehend how a male could wear such a garment without being in some level of discomfort.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Tron said as he stood and left the table. He headed upstairs to his bedroom, in need of some time to be alone with his thoughts.

Alan watched Tron go, and then he grinned as he chewed a bite of food.

"He'll figure it out soon," Sam said, grasping a piece of chicken between his chopsticks before eating it.

"What will you do when he does?" Alan asked.

"Tell him the truth," Sam said with a shrug. "Explain to him that it's okay to do that kind of thing."

"And hope he doesn't come home wearing a pair of pink panties," Alan added.

Sam grimaced at the mental image. Alan chuckled next to him.

"I guess Tron won't be doing your special laundry anymore," Alan said with a small smile.

"Nope," Sam said as he ate more rice.

"I could do it for you," Alan said with a small smirk.

Sam looked at Alan and grinned. “Just remember to follow the care instructions. I don’t want to ruin the fabric. I got them on a whim because they were on sale; if I get more, they won’t be so cheap.”

“I know, love,” Alan said as he leaned over to kiss Sam’s cheek.

Sam smiled and turned his head to give Alan a real kiss, and then continued to eat. They shared the rest of the meal in silence.

********

Meanwhile, Tron was in his room, standing in front of a mirror as he held a pair of bright pink panties in front of his own groin.

_How are these supposed to fit?_ he thought to himself as he tugged at the waistband, stretching them so they were even with his hips. He could not stretch them enough, though, and the spandex only allowed him to pull so far.

He frowned and returned to the laundry room, where he put the panties back where he had found them. There was no way Alan could wear them; it was simply not logical for men to wear such things, even if they did fit.

As Tron returned to his room, he frowned.

He still did not know who the owner of the panties was.


End file.
